


Expression

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2010-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything I want to say to you I express in a smile." All of the smiles Eames saves for Arthur and what he wants to express with them. Arthur/Eames</p><p>A companion piece to the Inception fanfiction "Smile"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expression

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out [here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Note: This is a companion piece to "Smile". You will probably want to read both, though the order doesn't matter. This is my first attempt at writing Eames's perspective so fingers crossed :)
> 
> Photos: For the reader's benefit, there's an outfit in The Content Smile that you may want to view with your own eyes. I took the inspiration from a photo of Joseph Gordon-Levitt himself. You can find it by searching "Joseph Gordon-Levitt 3 0609" in Google images. Don't peek ahead! Trust me, it's worth the wait.

**I – The Smug Smile**

 

He felt a little foolish and knew that he would have to sit in the pub in soaked clothing for doing this, but he pushed those thoughts aside. People-watching was, of course, his trade and it never hurt to be careful. That was why Eames was seated at the bench for a bus that he knew would not be coming for another hour.

 

He was being pelted by a warm English downpour as he sat there, pretending innocent intent, while he eyed the two dream workers through the fogged up glass window of the _Three Drummers_ in perfect view of his chosen bench. Obviously there was a reason why he had told this Extractor – Cobb - to meet him at this pub. He wasn’t an amateur.

 

It was good to be cautious when meeting new dream workers for a job. Hell, it was good to be cautious when you were involved in any illegal profession, but you had to be extremely careful and picky about whom you allowed to view your subconscious. There were a lot of things that could happen down in a dream; that was why you didn’t dream share with a random off the street...or in a pub.

 

He had made sure he was perched on this bench before the two dream workers arrived so that they already considered him part of the scenery. He had watched the two men dash out of their ride and into the pub quickly. Eames noted, offhandedly, that the one with black hair had looked rather distressed over the state of his suit, causing him to give a tiny eye roll – it was just _water_. He shifted his position slightly so that he could see the window they sat by clearly but made sure that it looked as if he was gazing down the street in hopes of the bus arriving early.

 

Eames was very good at what he did, mainly because he enjoyed it so much. He loved watching a person’s behaviour, actions, and expressions to learn more about them. The expressions were always his favourite though. There were so many muscles in a person’s face that the sheer amount of feelings, thoughts, expressions, and messages you could convey with something as simple as a smile was mind boggling. And he had come to notice over time that everyone’s smiles were unique – if you cared to look close enough.

 

The man closest to the window, the one with black hair slicked back perfectly and suit properly in place was not smiling. In fact, he looked down right frustrated. Eames checked his watch quickly; he was about fifteen minutes late but had not learned enough yet to make him happy so he continued watching, doing his best to ignore the chill that the rain was bringing.

 

The man further away from the window, the man who had introduced himself as Cobb on the phone, could not be made out very well from where he was sitting. But Eames could see enough to tell that the man was in a relaxed position but was scanning the pub frequently. He had a drink sitting in front of him which he sipped from conservatively. He was confident, certainly, but still held that instinct of caution which Eames approved of.

 

He returned his attention to the other man – Arthur, the Point Man – who Cobb had informed him would be joining their meeting. There was not a lot of helpful information he had found on this man or on Cobb for that matter. All he had truly learned was that Arthur was extremely skilled at finding the information he wanted and hiding the rest from prying eyes. He had controlled most of the information circulating about both himself and Cobb; he was protective of his team, which Eames appreciated.

 

Judging by his behaviour and appearance though, Arthur highly valued professionalism and acting proper – in other words, boring. The man had ordered a drink but had not touched it after he set it on the table. Eames wondered at first if this man was nervous, but no, that wasn’t right. He could read the telltale signs of confidence in the man but it was hidden down below a thick shield of vigilance. That was why Eames could not help but smirk at his own ability when the man’s eyes skimmed over him before glancing down at his watch again – he had successfully become scenery to this watchful man.

 

Eames stood then and walked into the pub, suddenly excited by the feeling of challenge and triumph he felt at having successfully hidden himself away from two extremely skilled dream workers. He was impressed by their behaviours and how they held themselves; he doubted they would have any difficulties working in a dream together. He was also looking forward to pulling apart this new puzzle that was Arthur who seemed very unwilling to express what he was feeling, which was why he decided to sit directly across from the point man after having ordered a drink.

 

He was well aware of how his clothing was weighing down his frame, creating a nice pool of rainwater under his seat as he took a warming sip of his drink, fighting off the chill slowly creeping into his fingers and toes. He could also feel Arthur’s eyes skimming his clothing in distaste before informing him he was late. Like Eames hadn’t known that little fact. “Yeah, well in case you didn’t realize this fact, it’s pissing rain out there,” he pointed to the window offhandedly while taking another sip.

 

He almost hoped that they would notice that the man on the bench was missing so that Eames could prove his skills right away. But when neither of them seemed to notice he could not complain, forcing down the smug smile he felt trying to tug his lips upwards at his continued success. “A natural born Englishman detained nearly thirty minutes by _rain_?” he heard the scepticism in Arthur’s voice.

 

Eames felt his eyes narrowing slightly, excited by this new challenge being presented to him. True, Arthur may not have put him and the man on the bench together, but it was clear that the man could not easily be fooled. Eames had a lot to look forward to with this man. But before he could say anything in response Cobb cut in, asking Arthur to inform Eames about this job.

 

Eames listened to the facts Arthur was laying out while also studying the point man. His face was neutral, guarded, and there was no sense of nervousness or hesitation in his body as he detailed select facts on the job. It was clear that he had prepared this in advance, like an important speech, and Eames appreciated the preparation and caution.

 

He was having trouble reading the point man as he spoke; it seemed as though he had a great deal of control over his facial expressions. But Eames was provided with one hint about how serious and excited Arthur was about this job when the man leaned over the table slightly. When he finally finished the man pulled away as if startled to realize he had moved. The information Arthur had given Eames sounded rather difficult, but manageable. Eames was always one to show off though so he tipped his chair back slowly, “Sounds easy enough to me.”

 

Arthur leaned towards him again, “I don’t think you were listening. This is a very challenging job that requires the absolute _best_ to even have a hope of pulling this off.”

 

Those words were meant to discourage him, to make him walk away. Eames could tell. But they didn’t. Instead he felt his mouth curling up dangerously, his own pride and smugness over his recent success in hiding from these two skilled dream workers _without_ another form fuelling his smile.  He tipped his chair forward, wanting to get into this man’s personal space to make him lose that neutral mask. He noticed Cobb watching them from the other side of the table curiously, but he was distracted by a further sense of triumph when he saw Arthur react to his smug smile. You could practically see him bristle under the look.

 

Eames wanted to tell them right then about what he had pulled off on the bench, but he didn’t. He would wait and show them his skills in dreams where he _truly_ shone; that thought alone made his smile grow cockier as he imagined Arthur being forced to admit to his skills. “Lucky for you, darling, I _am_ the best.”

 

**II – The Challenging Smile**

 

Eames was extremely excited when they arrived in southern Spain to begin preparing for their job. Eames had not dream shared with many people and never anyone as skilled as Cobb or Arthur. Finally he would be working with other people at his skill level and he would get his chance to show off his expertise – to flaunt and impress to his heart’s desire.

 

That was why he was a little disappointed when Arthur disappeared to his desk in a far corner of the stuffy warehouse to do research on the mark. He told himself that the point man was doing what was required of him and that Eames would get his opportunity to shine later. Until then, he was getting a chance to test out their architect’s work and also try to trick Cobb, who was well on his way to becoming the best extractor in the business.

 

Cobb alone was enough of a challenge to distract Eames for nearly a week as he tested out many different roles and approaches to either evade or pursue Cobb. It was probably the fourth day of their testing when Cobb looked over at him while they pulled out the needles, giving him an impressed nod. “You really are the best Forger, Eames. We’re lucky to have you on the team.”

 

Eames smirked knowingly; he had known this already, of course, but it was still nice to hear. But he had gotten the nod from Cobb – he had impressed him, so now it was time for him to focus on Arthur. His eyes skimmed over the bare concrete floors to Arthur’s solitary desk, watching the man skim through folders, “Arthur, how about a round with me, pet?”

 

Arthur did not even look up from his work, instead just waving his hand in an annoyed fashion, like trying to swat away a circling bug. Eames sighed and saw Cobb shrug, offering for them to go under again together. The forger accepted, and continued accepting Cobb’s offers throughout the rest of the week but Eames did not enjoy it as much as before. He had a new target now, but that target wasn’t giving him a chance to prove himself.

 

Eventually, at the end of their first week in southern Spain Cobb walked over to Arthur’s desk. Eames wasn’t sure if it was because he knew the point man and the forger needed to practice dream sharing before the job, or because Cobb had noticed Eames’s new habit of glancing over at Arthur’s table hopefully, looking for his opportunity. Either way, Eames heard Arthur’s immediate refusal when Cobb suggested he dream share with Eames and that was the last straw.

 

Eames sauntered over to the table, easily pulling up his general smugness over his abilities that had managed to drag a response out of the other man back in England. He walked up to the desk, searching for something that would further disrupt the man’s attention and zeroed in on the perfectly stacked and organized folders of information. He sat down on the edge of the desk at the perfect angle to send those folders fanning across the desk, mixing their contents and also swallowing up Arthur’s current notebook.

 

He heard the man’s frustrated sigh and picked up a few stray sheets of paper without much interest. As Cobb disappeared to talk to the architect he put on the most uninterested expression he could think of, figuring that Arthur would be more likely to refuse dream sharing if he knew how badly Eames wanted to try it. “So I hear you don’t want to dream share with me.”

 

“As you might have seen, I am rather busy fulfilling my own duties,” the man glowered and snatched the pages away. Eames felt the insistent burn of a paper cut, which he sucked on thoughtfully. He remained on the desk to watch Arthur as he started reorganizing his notes and making a show of being occupied. Eames realized that the smug smile from the pub might be able to rile up a reaction from the point man, but it would not be enough. He needed something new, something that would push Arthur over the edge to do something stupid.

 

Arthur liked to be right just as much as Eames did, especially when against one another. So he pulled up a smile that was almost animalistic, wild, dangerous. “You know what I think, pet?” he pulled the man’s attention up with the pet name easily, drawing attention to his face. He willed his challenge to curve his lips, almost mocking, daring Arthur to prove him wrong. “I think you’re afraid that I’m as good at what I do as I say I am.”

 

He saw the man’s back straighten as he pushed himself into a standing position. He forced his triumph down, maintaining his smile as Arthur returned it, teeth bared slightly like they truly were animals ready to fight over status or territory. Eames watched as the other man stalked over to the dream machine stiffly; he could read the tension and excitement in the man’s shoulders as he followed.

 

Eames watched as Arthur set up the device and sat down. He kept his smile in place, entire posture relaying ‘Prove me wrong, I _dare _you.’ There was no way he was going to let Arthur back out of this now, not when he was so close to finally getting his chance to show off his skills to Arthur. He didn’t know why but he wanted the point man to admit he was the best, even if Eames had to corner him into admitting it.

 

He didn’t want to prove Arthur wrong. Oh no, he wanted something _much_ better. He wanted to force Arthur into proving Eames right. “Impress me,” he heard Arthur bite out sarcastically before slipping the needle into his skin, falling asleep.

 

“With pleasure,” Eames allowed his challenging smile to morph back into one of smugness at his success. He committed his posture and his smile to memory, relishing the memory of Arthur’s reaction as he too slipped the needle under his skin, more than ready for a challenge.

 

**III – The Amused Smile**

 

The job in southern Spain had been a success and the team parted ways. Or more specifically, Eames parted from the team. The upcoming jobs the team was preparing for did not require his speciality and he felt like a bit of a holiday anyway. He had taken such a liking to Spain that he bought a small flat along one of the main promenades in Barcelona.

 

Spain held a lot of good memories for him after this job so he furnished the flat fully. He was aware, even when he was setting it up, that he probably would not spend much time there as he continued dream work. But that did not stop his actions or desire to make the flat feel like home. Despite all of the other traveling he would be doing he wanted this place to be his safe haven – where he would return to and call home.

 

He filled the flat with his own warm and slightly unconventional style. He filled a small bookshelf with his favourite books, picked out the comfiest queen sized bed he could find, hung paintings that held memories, and did everything else he could think of to not just make the flat liveable, but making it somewhere you would _want_ to live. Unfortunately, no matter what he added or changed in the flat it felt empty…or more distinctively like it was missing something.

 

Eventually Eames got frustrated and after a few months of living there decided to take his own muttered suggestion earlier and head off to Mombasa. He kept the flat as it was, hoping that someday when he returned he would have a new perspective that would immediately notice what was missing. He did not attempt to make his new place in Mombasa feel like home since he knew he would not be there forever.

 

He took a few jobs here and there but turned down the majority of the offers. He was still extremely picky about whom he worked with and after working with Cobb and Arthur the bar was just raised too high for anyone else to pass, which was why he only took the jobs that really perked his interest.  It was a genuine relief when Cobb materialized in a bar behind him one day, hoping to pull him in on a new job.

 

As they sat down at a table and Cobb began with one word, Inception, Eames already knew that this job would be an excellent challenge. Deeper in his mind he was curious about whether Arthur would be involved as well but chose not to ask out loud. However Eames’s attention perked up when he heard Cobb speak, “Arthur keeps telling me that it can’t be done.”

 

Eames forced himself to remain calm and not show how excited the idea of working with Arthur again was for him. “Arthur…” he drew out the name, not having had a reason to speak it in a while, “you still working with that stick in the mud?”

 

“He’s good at what he does, right?” Cobb leaned back in his chair, sending the forger a tiny smirk.

 

“Oh he’s the best,” Eames felt himself smile as the memories of their previous job flickered across his mind. The extractor did not even need to officially ask Eames to join their team; he was already signed up and waiting to go.

 

When they arrived in Paris and the new team sat down together to discuss the upcoming job Eames watched the rest of the team. He had known Yusuf from a previous job; extremely skilled if a little eccentric. He also noted the absence of Nash, this girl Ariadne taking over the role as the new architect. She was skilled for her age but Eames could not help but think that she would be less annoying if she stopped following Arthur around like a lost puppy. Eames was sure to always steal the seat next to Arthur when the group gathered to deter her – to teach self reliance, of course.

 

Besides, Eames could not deprive the point man of his close proximity. Even after years apart Arthur still seemed to get slightly agitated when Eames got too far into his personal space. This, of course, amused Eames greatly and he began looking for new methods to cause that neutral mask to drop. His opportunity came when they were discussing how to get out of a dream while sedated.

 

Arthur had two legs of his chair tilted off the concrete as he took notes. Eames was barely focusing on the conversation happening around him, watching that chair bob occasionally as Arthur lost focus in his writing before he regained his balance. Eames could not describe the temptation welling up inside him as he watched Arthur teeter but could not think of a reason to do it that would not make him look like a complete arse. Ariadne’s voice floated by his consciousness, “What’s a kick?”

 

Eames fought down a smile; maybe this girl wasn’t so bad after all. He did not remove his gaze to look at her, continuing to stare fixedly at the distracted point man as he spoke, “This, Ariadne, would be a kick.” He nudged the closest leg of Arthur’s chair back slightly and leaned back to watch. He kept one finger against his lips, trying to control his grin as he watched Arthur’s neutrality fall away as he flailed.

 

The legs of the chair hit the concrete again and Arthur sighed before he sent a deadly glare at Eames. He could no longer contain himself and allowed the smile of pure amusement to break across his face. It had been entertaining, no doubt about it, but Eames was also happy to have found a new method of forcing Arthur into showing those complicated feelings deep down that he tried to hide away.

 

He took it upon himself to watch every time Arthur tested one of Yusuf’s compounds. He enjoyed the point man’s relaxed face while he was under and then chuckled every time he was woken up. True, it was just a moment of panic and a flash of anger that he received, but it was still a victory in his mind. And sometimes, when he was extremely lucky, he would catch the barest hint of embarrassment in the man’s cheeks.

 

Eames was happy with this, glad to be seeing anything expressive and true on that face at all. But one day Arthur blinked up at him from the concrete, jaw clenched as he pushed himself up, and Eames saw it. A tiny smile, so small that he almost missed it. So insignificant that Arthur did not even seem to notice that it had quirked a corner of his mouth up; but Eames noticed. And that was then he realized that he wanted to see more.

 

**IV – The Flirtatious Smile**

 

Everyone had stayed late in the warehouse that night working on their individual aspects of the inception job. Cobb was under, doing whatever Cobb did, while Yusuf watched over him. He could see the pale circle of light spilling onto the concrete from Arthur’s desk even though Eames could not see Arthur or the desk itself, blocked off from view by a wall.

 

Eames was busy listening to Ariadne as she showed him some new details that she had added to the third level of the dream. He was just pointing out an area, suggesting an air shaft in the case of emergencies when he heard a distant ‘click’ as Arthur turned off his desk lamp. The forger looked up to meet Arthur’s gaze as he passed, wondering if he was going to head back to the hotel immediately before he returned his attention to the architect.

 

A short time later he excused himself and grabbed his bag and jacket. Arthur had not looked tired at all so Eames decided to take a chance and check out the bar nearby the hotel that the team occasionally visited. He smiled happily to himself as he slipped into the crowded room and spotted Arthur sitting alone by the bar. Eames held back for a moment, melting into the throng of people by the door to study Arthur.

 

Arthur was a rather attractive man and Eames had no trouble admitting this, even if the man did often act as if he had a stick up his arse. That thought drew his attention downward, shamelessly skimming his eyes over Arthur as the forger leaned against a wall. Eventually his eyes trailed back up, taking in that perfect suit that hugged Arthur’s form flawlessly. Ebony hair slicked back, begging to be mussed. Pale neck half hidden by collar and tie, so easily removed. Those expressive dark eyes, trained lazily on his glass, for once not holding the coldness normally directly at Eames.

 

The point man was cradling a drink in one hand, sipping it occasionally while clearly lost in thought. He looked calm, if not relaxed, despite the noise and bustle around him. It was also quite clear that the man wanted to be left alone, ignoring the glances of a few men and women near him. But that had never stopped Eames before.

 

He began sauntering forward, taking note of the drink Arthur was just finishing so that when he stole the seat next to Arthur he could immediately order the man another glass while ordering himself something. He had done this before; he knew all the moves. “Darling I’m hurt, why did you not tell me you were headed out for some fun?”

 

“Because I wanted to be alone,” that coldness had returned to Arthur’s eyes. To anyone else it would be uninviting, but Eames just saw a challenge.

 

He made sure to brush his hand unnecessarily against Arthur’s hand as he reached for his glass, giving the other man his very best flirtatious smile, “You’re right, pet, we can have fun all by ourselves.” The smile was meant to shrug off any seriousness as it drew attention to his lips; when he saw Arthur’s eyes momentarily flick down he could not stop his smile from growing.

 

Feeling playful he batted his eyelashes, partially because he knew how well it drew attention to his eyes and partially just for the pure amusement of it. He noticed Arthur’s eyes wandering between his lips and his eyes and leaned towards him; the perfect distance so that Arthur would feel his body heat and also his breath as he spoke. “How about it, love? Want to go start our own party?” he whispered.

 

He knew immediately that he had done something wrong. Arthur jerked away from him and off the stool, so keen on putting distance between himself and the forger that he left the bar entirely. Eames called after him once but did not bother to leave his stool to pursue the other man, knowing that it would do no good. Instead he downed his own drink sullenly before pulling Arthur’s untouched one towards him.

 

Eames had miscalculated. This was not some random person he was trying to pick up at the bar. He would not say goodbye to this person the next day and never think about them again. This was _Arthur_. His normal moves wouldn’t work in this situation, nor, now that he thought about it, did he want them to. Sure, he could continue flirting with Arthur just to annoy the man, and he looked forward to that, but it would not get him a taste of those lips.

 

**V – The Fake Smile**

 

Despite his initial failure Eames had quickly become obsessed with wondering what Arthur’s lips felt like, tasted like. He constantly debated with himself over whether he should crush it down or follow it, whether it was even worth the effort. Eventually he ended up somewhere in the middle, pissing Arthur off daily but watching those lips hopefully for any clues he might be presented.

 

It soon became a nuisance and a distraction as their job approached. Eames began assuring himself that he just needed one tiny kiss to know what it was like and then he would be able to move on. He was like a child who didn’t want to play with a toy until he was informed that he wasn’t allowed to. And Arthur was certainly making every effort to tell the man ‘no’.

 

The idea came to him one day while he watched Arthur sleeping, the point man and Ariadne gone down to test out some of her architecture for the first level. The music came to a crescendo and Arthur blinked his eyes open, glancing over at Ariadne before pulling the needle out of his wrist and standing up to stretch. Eames narrowed his eyes slightly, plan formulating in his mind. Now he just needed his opportunity and he would be done with this nonsense.

 

Finally a few days later Arthur went under on his own to test run the maze for the second level of the dream. Everyone else had already headed back to the hotel for the night, leaving Eames alone to watch the sleeping Arthur. Unable to resist the temptation of his chance, Eames took the chair next to Arthur and slipped the needle under his skin.

 

He became aware of his surroundings in the hotel elevator, mirror at his back. He turned slightly, taking on the appearance and mannerisms of the young architect. He brushed his now-delicate fingers along the long wavy hair before touching Ariadne’s face, inspecting the eyes and facial features in the mirror until he was satisfied. Eames even made sure to keep the clothing the same as what the girl had been wearing before she left the warehouse for the night, as if she had rushed back to tell Arthur something.

 

Eames felt a momentary wave of guilt over using a fellow team member’s face as he began his search for the point man. But really, when he thought about it, Ariadne should be thanking him. As soon as Eames’s curiosity was sated he would be able to leave Arthur behind for Ariadne to pick up as soon as she drew up the courage. Feeling a little better thanks to his forced logic and the realization that he would soon have what he wanted, Eames picked up his pace.

 

He eventually found Arthur in one of the hotel rooms, holding the door open slightly with Ariadne’s frame as he watched the man hop off a dresser, “How is it?” he heard Ariadne’s voice slip through his lips perfectly.

 

He watched as Arthur replaced a vase to its proper location, upholding a slight nervousness in his frame to mimic that excited tension Ariadne got when Arthur critiqued her work. Arthur nodded, looking pleased, “It’s very well made. But there’s also a few places I think we could alter to help us on the job. Come, I’ll show you.” That was just like Arthur, Eames thought as he followed the other man out into the hallway; there was always room for improvement in his eyes. He could tell that sometimes it was hard for Ariadne to hear since she was still learning. But Eames just saw Arthur showing how much he was willing to put into a job, into any aspect of his life: dedication.

 

They were already halfway to the elevator and Eames knew he had to act now lest he lose his chance. He was a little annoyed at himself when he found that he did not need to fake nervousness in Ariadne’s voice as he spoke, “Actually, I was hoping to talk with you privately for a moment. We never really get a chance with everyone working in the warehouse...” Eames trailed off, looking away partially for show and partially because he realized what he was saying was true.

 

“What is it?” Arthur asked him and Eames was a little bitter to realize that Arthur had never been willing to hand Eames his attention so easily.

 

For a moment he wondered if he should just stop this right now, change back or even wake himself up. But then he would never know and he would never be able to leave this man behind him. So with a quick breath he stepped forward, holding Arthur’s face close as he pressed their lips together. With a heady sensation he felt Arthur wrap his arms around him and kiss him back eagerly.

 

For the briefest of moments it was perfect. Arthur’s lips were wonderful and Eames couldn’t get enough of them. And Arthur was kissing him back. But then it hurt, oh hell it hurt. It hurt because Arthur was not kissing Eames, he was kissing Ariadne. The point man’s head was dipped too far down to reach Ariadne’s lips, arms wrapped around too slight a frame. Arthur’s eyes were closed, imagining his lips brushing against Ariadne’s lips rather than Eames’s lips.

 

Eames lost his breath, feeling like he had been punched in the stomach as his heart jolted to a stop. Oh god, he had made a huge mistake. He was only partially aware as Arthur placed sturdy hands on his shoulders, pushing him away, “No, stop.” Eames felt his own form return with a painful snap, Arthur’s hands finally on the right shoulders though that did not make the forger feel any better as Arthur shoved him away. “Eames, you bastard!”

 

The forger stumbled back a step, dazed by his own stupidity and pain. This had not been mere curiosity; it was something he was not even sure he could fight. He felt flushed and vaguely like he was going to throw up on the fancy hotel carpet. But he pushed that away; Arthur couldn’t know. He couldn’t know about the mistake Eames had just made. It would only make the man hate him more than he already did. It was better to just play this off as him being a teasing asshole as per usual. Better. Safer.

 

“Why did you stop, darling? Didn’t want your first time to happen in a dream?” he forced a joke while pulling up the memory of his smiles. In this situation he would look smug at his deception and amused at embarrassing Arthur. But holding that smile on his face hurt, straining muscles that did not want to cooperate. He saw Arthur open his mouth to respond but then watched as the point man stopped, watching Eames. Nothing more was said between them as they watched one another, the hotel falling to pieces around them.

 

As the warehouse came into his view Eames pulled out his needle and cleaned it quickly before setting it aside. He flashed Arthur one more performed smile, the man still in his chair, before he swaggered off to find something suitable to bang his head against. Repeatedly.

 

**VI – The Cheered Up Smile**

 

He felt like a teenage girl who had just had her week-long boyfriend break up with her. Nothing seemed quite as funny or enjoyable and there didn’t seem to be much of a point in anything. But Eames blatantly refused to acknowledge this mindset, let alone act on it so he shoved it deep down and began doing what he did best – pretend.

 

Problem? What problem? He was Eames, the best damned forger in the world, and Eames did not get his heart broken by some pompous, suit-obsessive book worm. And you couldn’t even call it heartbreak with how short a time they had truly known each other. All they did was tease and annoy (Eames), glare and ignore (Arthur), and argue. Sure, maybe he was a little disappointed and maybe his pride had taken a hit. But calling it heartbreak was the farthest thing from the truth.

 

Neither of them mentioned the incident to the rest of the team so things continued on as normal. Arthur did not tell anyone, probably in fear that Eames would divulge exactly what had happened. And Eames didn’t tell anyone because why the hell would they need to know?

 

Eames returned to the man he was before going down into that dream. He joked, he flirted, he irritated, he teased, he smirked. It wasn’t exactly difficult to pull off. When your entire career depended upon you imitating someone’s appearance, personality and mannerisms all at once, returning to your mindset from three days ago wasn’t that difficult a challenge. He was sure to give himself a mental pat on the back when no one else seemed to notice anything different about him. And why should they? There wasn’t anything different about him.

 

But after a few days he began to feel a strain on his mind similar to what happened when he upheld a particularly challenging persona for a long period of time. He decided to take advantage of the PASIV device whenever no one else was using it, saying that he wanted to practice Browning and a few other roles he might need to use during the inception job.

 

Instead, when he went under he let himself fall into a true dream where his subconscious built the dream around him and he followed whatever it wanted to do. The only times he took any semblance of control over the dream would be when a projection of Arthur showed up, steering himself away from those thoughts. It was relaxing, allowing himself to be anything and everything he wanted to be rather than pretending to be something he wasn’t.

 

It was late one night when he went under, everyone else on their way out of the warehouse. Having expected to be alone in the warehouse when he woke up, he was a little confused when he found Arthur sitting beside him, lost in thought. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and stretched the knots out of his muscles, “Arthur? What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to talk to you.”

 

“About what?” Eames remained in his chair, trying to maintain his relaxed appearance to hide the nerves that suddenly twisted his stomach.

 

“About when you snuck into my dream and how you’ve been acting after that,” Eames heard Arthur explain a little hurriedly.

 

He didn’t stop his eyebrow from rising, though he doubted Arthur could see it in the darkness anyway, “I haven’t been acting any differently.”

 

It looked for a moment like Arthur was going to argue but then the man suddenly stood, looking angry, “My mistake then.”

 

Deciding to prove that Arthur was, in fact, mistaken, Eames pulled up a smirk, “Are you worried about me? Darling, I never knew you cared.” He was expecting a sarcastic retort before the point man stormed away but Eames was surprised to see Arthur’s eyes glance at him and then down at the floor quickly.

 

Arthur _had_ been worried...or at least he had seen through some of Eames’s pretending. Eames could not stop the smile that broke out across his face so widely it hurt, but in a good way. Arthur may not want to kiss him or care about him that way. But with the man’s words it was clear that he cared enough to at least notice when something was wrong. And when he saw a tiny smile try to mirror his own on Arthur’s lips he felt warm, like that was enough for him. “Goodnight,” he heard Arthur speak abruptly before practically dashing out of the warehouse.

 

“Goodnight, love,” Eames spoke after him, his smile impossible to wipe away.

 

**VII – The Worried Smile**

 

After that night Eames found that he was no longer pretending to be something he wasn’t. Flirting, teasing and smiling came naturally to him again, no longer forced to hide feelings that were too dangerous to show. He felt happy and relaxed during the last week they spent preparing for the inception job, even while everyone else’s nerves began to rise.

 

Now they were on the second level of the dream, everyone soon dropping to the third level while leaving Arthur alone to deal with Fischer’s security here. He lay down on the soft carpet, working on undoing the cuff of his shirt to save Arthur some time while trying to swallow down his sudden sense of concern.

 

He knew it was stupid to worry; Arthur was more than capable of taking care of himself in both the dream world and reality. But that did not stop him from muttering a warning to Arthur when the point man knelt beside him and pushed the fabric of his sleeve up his arm. “Security’s going to run you down hard.” Eames kept his gaze trained on his wrist where Arthur was holding him rather than meet Arthur’s gaze; now was not the time to accidentally say something stupid.

 

He felt Arthur grip his wrist a little tighter at his words, “And I will lead them on a merry chase.”

 

Eames grinned at Arthur’s words, appreciating the confidence and humour in his tone. Arthur only joked when he had the time for it. But he felt his smile falter slightly at the thought of Fischer’s security cornering Arthur, sending him to Limbo. Arthur never waking up. He tried to keep his smile present overtop of his concern but allowed himself the quiet request, “Just be back before the kick.”

 

Suddenly Arthur was leaning over him slightly, fingers still wrapped around his wrist. Eames felt his heart rate pick up when he saw the reassuring smile on the other man’s face, all for his benefit. He felt his worry melt away under that smile, knowing he and Arthur would wake up together. “Go to sleep, Mr. Eames,” he heard Arthur mutter distantly as the needle pinched his skin and he slipped down into the third level.

 

**VIII – The Proud Smile**

 

As he blinked his eyes open, rubbing away the blurriness of sleep, Eames glanced over at Arthur. He saw the point man give him a quick glance before returning his attention to Cobb, waiting for the Extractor to pull himself and Saito out of limbo. Eames sat back in his seat, breathing out all of the tension from his body, and waited with everyone else. A few long minutes later he saw Cobb’s hand shift and saw Saito blink his eyes open. They had been successful. Everyone was safe.

 

Eames considered his options for a long moment before pulling out the airplane magazine displaying food and drinks you could order in the air. He tore off a corner of one page and slipped the magazine back into place while digging around in his bag for a pen. He paused for a moment, tip hovering over the paper before he quickly scribbled down the address for his flat in Barcelona. He did not know if he would have the courage to ask Arthur to return there with him, but if he did he doubted Arthur would agree immediately. He crumpled up the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket, a little hopeful and very nervous.

 

The first class cabin remained quiet as everyone was lost in their own thoughts after such a heavy job. Once Eames finally managed to push aside his relief he began wondering how Arthur had managed to induce a kick on the second level while the van had been in freefall. He watched the other man as everyone began filing out of the plane but allowed Arthur and Cobb to pull ahead of the group. They were all that was left of the original team and would want some time alone together.

 

He watched curiously as the point man and extractor talked quietly as their two lines shuffled towards customs. Eames himself was in a third line and too far behind them to hear what they were saying. Eventually Arthur’s line shot ahead, leaving Cobb alone to force himself to remain calm as he approached the customs officer. Not long after that Eames’s line also jumped forward, bringing him alongside Cobb. The extractor glanced over at him, clearly looking for a distraction, “Did Arthur tell you how he managed to create a kick in freefall?”

 

Eames shook his head, eagerly waiting for the explanation, “No. That man is too modest.”

 

Cobb smirked slightly at his words, nodding his agreement before he began retelling Eames what Arthur had told him. Eames felt like rolling his eyes at how under dramatic Arthur had made the entire ordeal sound, as if all he had done was go to the grocery store and find that they were out of milk. But stronger than that, filling him up, was an undeniable sense of pride that turned his lips upward happily.

 

When Cobb was finished relaying the story he noticed Eames’s smile and held one of his own, a similar sense of pride shining in the extractor’s eyes. Not a moment too soon, Cobb’s line began streaming forward and he left Eames and the rest of the team behind to wait for their turn through customs. The forger watched nervously as his friend walked up to customs, noting the rest of the team watching from their lines as well. He knew they all breathed a synchronized sigh of relief as Cobb passed through customs and headed towards baggage claim.

 

The extractor was already gone by the time Eames made it to the luggage room but his eyes fell upon the point man who was still by the passing luggage waiting for his bag. Eames pulled up his trolley next to the other man quietly, both of them watching for their bags in silence for a few minutes. Finally Eames couldn’t hold himself back, he had to say something. “We actually did it, didn’t we darling?”

 

They both found their luggage then and began moving away from the conveyer belt towards the exit. “Yeah...I think we did.”

 

He was a little startled at Arthur’s sudden laugh, however quiet it was, and it brought up that sense of warmth and pride again. “You know, Cobb told me how you created a kick in freefall.”

 

“It was nothing. I just did what I had to do.” Eames saw Arthur duck his head, partially in embarrassment but also due to the sudden gust of chilly air they stepped into as they walked outside to wait for a cab.

 

He felt a sudden urge to wrap Arthur up in his arms to block him from the wind but he knew Arthur would not appreciate the action. Instead he spoke confidently, wanting Arthur to believe his words, “No love, you were bloody brilliant!” Eames’s smile grew when he saw it pull a shy sort of smile onto Arthur’s lips. That smile gave him the confidence to take a risk, “Listen...” he began hesitantly as he saw a taxi pull up, “I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place. I sure as hell know I don’t want to be alone after this job.”

 

Eames felt his heart drop in time with Arthur’s smile, regretting how cornered he had suddenly made Arthur look. “I can’t,” he heard Arthur finally speak in a rush, “I need to check up on my apartment and...other important things...”

 

Eames cut him off, immediately wanting to take the pressure off the other man’s shoulders, “It’s alright, pet. Don’t worry about it,” he nodded to the taxi driver so that he would start packing Arthur’s luggage while Eames went to pull the back door open, “You take this taxi and I’ll grab the next one.”

 

As Arthur slipped into the back seat and looked up at him, Eames had to swallow hard, “We could at least share a taxi...”

 

Eames shook his head, not know what he would do if he got into the back seat of the taxi with Arthur. This was not something he wanted to force the other man into. “No, we’re headed different directions right now.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket, crumpled paper held tightly in his fist until he dropped it into Arthur’s pocket, covering the move with a handshake. “It was good to see you again, love,” he forced another smile to his face, hoping it would dispel some of the pain and guilt on the point man’s face.

 

With all of the willpower he had left he stepped back onto the curb and pushed the taxi door closed, allowing it to slowly pull away from him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as a sudden burst of cold wind hit him. Eames stood there, watching the taxi drive away until it was out of sight, ignoring two new taxis in the process. Finally, knowing that there was nothing more he could do, he stepped away from the curb and waited for the next taxi to pull up.

 

**IX – The Surprised Smile**

 

He couldn’t help but glower at his flat as he dropped his bags by his feet and pushed the door closed behind him. Of course, cruel as life was, he now knew what had been missing from his flat. And now it was too late. He had made his move and Arthur had rejected it, not that Eames was truly surprised by that. But that didn’t make him feel any better, or his flat any less empty.

 

He jolted in surprise when he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. With a wave of inexplicable hope he frantically reached for it, pulling it out to look at the call display. Hoping it was Arthur. It hurt more than he was expecting it to when he saw that it was just a mass text from Ariadne to let everyone know she had arrived back in Paris safely. That was all well and good to know but Eames suddenly felt the strong urge to crush his phone into tiny pieces.

 

Eames immediately turned on his heel, slamming the door closed behind him as he headed out onto the dimly lit promenade. It was early evening at this point, street performers packing up for the night as the sun traveled towards the horizon. Eames continued his walk until he reached the water and stopped against one of the old iron railings.

 

He looked down at the phone cradled in his hand, frustrated with himself and life in general. He knew it was foolish and childish but he dreaded the idea of having to feel his hopes rise and then fall every time he got a call and it wasn’t from Arthur. And he had to face the facts when he admitted that it would probably happen quite often. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to drop off the grid for awhile, right? Take a break from everything?

 

It took him that long to decide to chuck his phone over the railing and into the awaiting sea. And it took him before the phone hit the waves to realize what he had done. “You are an idiot, mate,” he muttered to himself as he watched the phone spin in the air and then sink under the water. He sighed in frustration, realizing that his entire contacts list had just disappeared forever.

 

He forced himself to step away from the railing and back to his flat, nothing left to be done. He told himself that at least now he would not be able to make a fool of himself by calling Arthur when he got really desperate. And at least he wouldn’t have his hopes pick up accidentally anymore. Eames was discouraged, miserable and exhausted by the time he made it back to his flat so he decided to simply fall into bed, entirely done with the day.

 

It was the middle of the night when he fell out of bed, tangled in sheets and gasping for air. He blinked his eyes blearily, not able to see much in the darkness, and fought the sheets frantically until his limbs were free. But he didn’t have any energy to get up and simply rolled over on the carpet, still trying to catch his breath.

 

As he continued forcing shuddering breaths he blindly reached to his nightstand for his totem and phone, though with a start he realized the latter was no longer there for him. He rolled his poker chip between his fingers shakily and tried to force back the sob clawing up his throat. He did not know what Arthur could possibly do but the point man’s voice was the only thing he could think of as his nightmare replayed in his mind.

 

He felt hot tears roll down his cheeks silently before the first sob finally broke free. And after that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He pulled the sheets half over himself as he lay on the carpet and cried, clutching his totem close while his body shook with emotion. He was shell shocked from his nightmare and on top of that the feelings of regret and heartbreak returned as he remembered Arthur rejecting him.

 

He did not know how long he cried before his eyes ran dry, his body dehydrated even though the dry sobs continued. Eventually he forced himself up into a sitting position, shaking and exhausted as he stood up and stumbled into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drained it, already grimacing past the headache taking over his head.

 

Eames briefly considered going back to sleep since it was still hours before dawn but the thought of falling back into his subconscious made his palms sweaty with panic. Instead he curled up on his couch with the bed sheets he had carried behind him, turning on the television to a movie channel. He didn’t really pay attention to the story as he slumped down on the cushions, head throbbing, eyes stinging, body shaking.

 

He hoped that the rest of the team was not going through this as well, though he had never experienced anything like this before the inception job. He had to forcefully remind himself that Arthur was safe at home in America and that he would probably be getting ready for a wonderful sleep in an hour or so. There was no point buying a new phone because he didn’t know Arthur’s number anyway. He told himself that he was Eames, the best bloody forger in the world, and he would be able to get through this all by himself. The shaking eventually stopped but that didn’t mean he fell asleep before the dawn rose.

 

For some reason he expected the next night to be better, like maybe it had just been a weird readjustment reaction. He had been wrong, of course, and woke up about an hour before dawn the next morning with a scream. As he grabbed his totem and held it close he swallowed hard, feeling how raw his throat felt. He realized he must have been screaming long before he actually woke up.

 

Once he finally dragged himself out of bed and grabbed some toast he decided to spend the day trying to exhaust himself, hoping that his mind might be too tired to drag up another horrifying nightmare. So after he finished eating he began jogging around the area surrounding his flat; up and down the promenades and along the shoreline. He eventually stopped to buy some lunch and collapsed on the beach, allowing the sun to slowly exhaust his body.

 

When he finally stumbled back he gave a tired glare to his flat, hating how it still didn’t feel like home despite all of his work. He kicked his couch for the hell of it as he passed it on his way to the bedroom. Didn’t his brain realize by now that Arthur wouldn’t be coming? Why wouldn’t his mind stop hoping? Why wouldn’t his heart stop hurting? He fell on top of the sheets, too tired to crawl under them as he drifted to sleep and stopped thinking.

 

This time he managed to sleep until after the sun had risen, but when he did finally jolt out of sleep he panicked. When he picked up his totem it felt wrong, like he couldn’t quite remember what it was supposed to weigh, how the ridges of the chip were supposed to feel as he ran his finger along them. His wiped away the sweat from his forehead, trying to discern what had been his nightmare and what was reality. It took him until midmorning for the boundaries to return to his mind’s understanding.

 

After that the days and nights blurred together along with reality and nightmares. Soon Eames felt dull, worn thin, muddled. About a week after he had arrived in Barcelona he was standing at his kitchen counter, spinning his poker chip across the smooth surface, only half conscious as he constantly tested for reality. He heard someone knock at the door, feeling his heart momentarily jump but he crushed down his hope and ignored the door. But when someone knocked again he tested his totem, realizing that this was reality and went to go see who it was.

 

He slowly undid the lock and twisted the doorknob open, all of his movements sluggish as the door fell inward. He blinked. He blinked again. “Arthur?”

 

“You didn’t answer your damn phone,” he heard the other man mutter, not even looking at him. The point man was slumped against his doorframe, looking like the world was weighing his shoulders down. His head hung low, eyes closed, and Eames saw that even though Arthur was shaven it had clearly been a haphazard job.

 

He was so startled by the other man’s appearance and his words that he couldn’t think to do anything more than laugh for a minute. “I threw it in the sea when I got here. I wanted to drop off the grid for a while and felt like something dramatic,” he explained, not daring mention that he had gotten rid of it because he couldn’t stand hoping that Arthur would call him. “I figured you found my note in case you really had to find me,” he added uselessly, not even bothering to hide how happy he was seeing Arthur at his doorstep.

 

Arthur looked up at him then and Eames could see those inviting brown eyes again, made warm with a relief Eames did not quite understand. But the forger found his surprise slowly slip away into a brilliant grin as he touched his totem, realizing that he wasn’t dreaming. This was reality. Arthur was really here – for him. “Bloody hell, darling,” he eventually managed to spit out, suddenly tongue tied, “you look a wreck.”

 

He saw Arthur smirk at him tiredly, “Well aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 

Eames nodded and pulled Arthur’s luggage inside the flat before helping Arthur through the doorframe, pushing the door closed behind them. He didn’t dare speak, but as his flat suddenly took on a feeling of completion, he couldn’t help but think a response to Arthur’s words. _I’ve been waiting to invite you in for years, love_.

 

**X – The Comforting Smile**

 

Once the realization that Arthur was actually in his flat fully nestled in Eames’s mind he found that he could not stop talking. About Barcelona, about inception, about his nightmares, about anything that popped into his mind. But he quickly noticed that Arthur was not listening to a single word, already half asleep on his couch. Eames offered for Arthur to share his bed but the other man just shook his head before tipping over, curling up on the cushions.

 

Eames considered prodding Arthur into changing first, knowing that he would hate himself the next day for sleeping in his suit, but when he cautiously placed a hand on Arthur’s arm he realized that the man was already asleep. With a small smile he stood up and went to find some spare blankets he had tucked away for chilly nights.

 

He unfurled the blankets and covered Arthur, watching the sheets settle and curve around the man’s sleeping form. Feeling brave, Eames brushed some of Arthur’s wonderfully non-gelled hair back, enjoying the look of that calm and relaxed face. He pulled away then, choosing the nearby armchair and watching Arthur sleep for a few moments.

 

It still seemed too good to be true, having the point man here with him in Barcelona. And according to Arthur’s opening words, he had been trying to contact Eames before he had come here. Judging by Arthur’s appearance the man had been plagued with similar nightmares, though Eames hoped that he was wrong. Maybe Arthur had just had a few bad nights or a bad plane ride. Either way, there was nothing he could do right now while the other man was sleeping soundly so he pulled himself out of the chair and slipped off to bed himself.

 

For once it was not one of his nightmares that woke him up, but he almost wished that it had been. He blinked his eyes at his clock quickly, seeing that it was a little past midnight, eyes clear without the confusion of a nightmare to blur his sense of reality. As he heard another terrified scream from his living room he threw off his sheets and bolted to Arthur’s side. He saw Arthur grab his die frantically but it did not seem to help him at all as Eames knelt down beside him.

 

“Shh, Arthur,” he cooed by Arthur’s ear. He brushed matted and sweaty hair away from Arthur’s face and then grazed his knuckles along his cheeks, brushing hot tears away softly. “You’re in reality now, love,” he kept repeating again and again in hushed tones until he saw the point man nod. He hated seeing Arthur like this, normally so confident and self-assured...now suddenly confused and uncertain. When he was sure that Arthur was beginning to get a grip on reality, not wanting to startle him, Eames spoke, “Good, now let’s get you more comfortable.”

 

He slipped his arms carefully under Arthur’s body and pulled him up against his chest, surprised that the other man allowed him to cradle him close. He felt his stomach twist in concern and guilt when he noted how light the point man felt in his arms. He wished that he had been there for Arthur when he needed him. “My, my, you’ve lost a lot of weight,” he muttered instead, distracting himself from those unhelpful thoughts.

 

Eames felt the other man trembling in his arms so he slipped Arthur down onto his side of the bed where he knew there would still be warmth for him to soak up. He pulled the covers over Arthur before moving to the other side of the bed. As he slipped under the covers he hesitantly moved closer to Arthur, giving him the chance to protest as Eames slowly curled up against Arthur’s back and wrapped his arms around him.

 

He couldn’t stop the small sigh that left his lips at feeling his body wrapped around Arthur’s, sharing heat. He lay there calmly, holding the point man close as Arthur slowly stopped trembling. Eventually, once Arthur had calmed down Eames felt him try to pull away, “Leave me alone Eames, I’m fine.”

 

Eames scoffed at Arthur’s words and gripped him a little tighter, “You are far from fine, darling. Stop being so embarrassed; didn’t you ever think that you’re not the only one this is happening to?”

 

Arthur stopped fighting Eames’s hold even though the forger could still hear the embarrassment in his tone as he spoke, “You seemed to be doing fine when I got here.”

 

Eames thought back for a moment and realized that he hadn’t looked as run down as Arthur had, but that didn’t mean he had been doing well. “Maybe I get further through the night than you before I wake up,” he muttered thoughtfully, “but I have still been getting these nightmares too, ever since inception. The first night I got here I bawled my eyes out; true story,” Eames added with a chuckle, hoping it would dispel some of Arthur’s embarrassment. “But everything’s going to be alright.”

 

He nuzzled against Arthur, breathing in his scent as he brushed his nose along Arthur’s jaw and neck, hoping it would comfort the man. Slowly he felt Arthur shiver briefly and then relax, pressing his back against Eames’s chest slightly for more warmth. “You don’t know that. It’s been getting worse every night for me,” Eames heard Arthur mutter into one of the pillows, sounding lost.

 

Eames sighed against Arthur’s neck and decided it was worthwhile to whisper his hopes even though they did not have any logical reasoning, “Me too, pet. But I have a feeling that now we’re together we’ll be able to fight off these nightmares and beat whatever this is.”

 

He felt Arthur shifting in his arms, turning to look up at him. He smiled down at the other man, sad that he had to endure this but trying to convey reassurance and determination in his smile and eyes. Arthur just blinked up at him, eyes blurry with exhaustion, before he slowly rested his head against the pillows again. Still curled up against Eames, wrapped up protectively in the forger’s arms, Arthur glanced up and met Eames’s eyes one more time before his eyes fell closed.

 

And that was when it happened; something Eames had never even dared to hope for. Head tucked against Eames’s chest, narrow legs brushing against his own, Arthur’s breathing evened out and his entire body relaxed in Eames’s hold. Arthur had willingly fallen asleep in Eames’s arms. With a small smile Eames dipped his head down, kissing Arthur’s hair softly before resting his cheek on top of Arthur’s head and falling to sleep himself.

 

**XI – The Content Smile**

The next few weeks were challenging but worth it.

 

The first week they barely managed to get any sleep at all, always waking one another up with their nightmares and then spending hours calming each other down. Eames had not known what to expect from Arthur when he was finally the one to wake the point man up, especially since Arthur already seemed uncomfortable sharing a bed. But as Eames shot forward into a sitting position, gasping for breath and holding his totem, he felt sturdy fingers grip his shoulders and pull him back down.

 

His head hit the pillow, exhaustion and memories of his nightmare making his body shake. But there was Arthur, pulling the covers snugly around him to keep him warm. He saw Arthur lean over him slightly, drawing his attention away from the images flashing in his mind, “This is reality, I promise,” was all he said. But that was all Eames needed to hear to get a grip and push the nightmare aside. There was something about Arthur’s certainty and understanding, looking down at Eames without any hint of judgement in those eyes. Just concern and assurance.

 

Once Eames was calm, Arthur would allow him to pull him close, resting his head on Eames’s chest as they both drifted off. In those moments, despite their shared frustrations and exhaustion, Eames felt warm, like anything was possible. He did not know it was possible to feel so content. Arthur did not feel the same about Eames as the forger did for the point man, but in those moments with Arthur sleep against him, Eames couldn’t bring himself to mind.

 

The first week they barely left the flat, always feeling too exhausted and run down to brave the outdoors. But as the second and third week came around the nightmares steadily began to fade and Eames managed to talk Arthur into a little sightseeing. They had not had much chance to sightsee on that job in Spain all those years ago so Arthur agreed. But as Arthur stepped out of their room Eames could not help but raise an eyebrow and choke on his coffee laughing, “Darling,” he finally managed, “We’re not going to the opera.”

 

Arthur looked down at himself, not seeing a problem with the suit he was currently wearing. “I am aware of that, Eames, thank you.”

 

Eames continued chuckling and shook his head, “You’re going to die of the heat if you go out in that. And that’s beside the fact that you do not need to wear a suit to go sightseeing.” Eames himself was in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt, looking the exact opposite from the point man.

 

Arthur gave a frustrated eye roll before disappearing into their bedroom again to change. A few minutes later he emerged again, this time looking a little uncertain. When Eames looked up from his newspaper he had to fight between laughing and drooling. Leave it to Arthur to find an amazingly attractive mix of formal and casual attire. The white collared shirt and black vest were still in place though the tie had been disposed of, leaving the collar open to bare his neck. He had also swapped his dress pants for a pair of dark jeans that somehow just...worked. “Better?” Arthur asked in a huff.

 

Eames blinked, trying to regain his focus as he felt a smirk tug at his lips. “You’d look good in anything, pet,” he winked, pleased to see Arthur roll his eyes and look away cautiously. Eames set his mug in the sink before they headed out, secretly overjoyed at how Arthur was beginning to relax around him. He was slowly dressing down as he became more comfortable and was even letting Eames take him out for a day to see things like the Park Guell and La Sagrada Familia. Occasionally he had to forcefully remind himself that this wasn’t a date – that it didn’t _need_ to be a date because he was enjoying himself all the same.

 

It had been about a month since Arthur showed up on his doorstep when Eames was woken up by the smell of coffee and breakfast late one morning. He blinked his eyes open hazily, looking at the sunlight pooling on their bed and realizing that he had finally managed to sleep in. He threw the covers off and wandered into the kitchen, following that wonderful smell. He felt a small smile take over his lips at what he saw, though he tried to hide it behind his mug of coffee as he took a sip.

 

There was Arthur in the process of pushing breakfast onto two plates, looking entirely like he belonged there, like the flat had just been waiting for him to show up. But that was not what caused Eames to stare. Arthur must have changed once he woke up but for the first time he had chosen to remain completely casual. He was in a pair of faded jeans and a loose t-shirt, padding around the kitchen barefoot. It was wonderful to see the other man look so relaxed...so at home.

 

Eames took Arthur’s mug for him and moved out onto their balcony to have breakfast. As he sat down at the table he heard Arthur speak, “I see you finally managed to sleep in.”

 

“I sure did. But what about you, pet?” Eames paused from his food to take a sip of coffee, watching Arthur over the top of the rim, “You’re up early; did you have another nightmare?”

 

Even though they rarely bothered to discuss their nightmares anymore, the idea of him sleeping through Arthur needing him caused him to worry. “No, I just happened to wake up early this morning,” Arthur gave him a small smile, wiping away the concern from the forger’s face.

 

Happy, Eames nodded before continuing to wolf down the rest of Arthur’s breakfast. He had never pinned the man for a good cook, but he had clearly been mistaken. When he was finished he leaned back in his chair, watching the point man as he glanced over the railing to gaze at the eager street performers. Sunlight was spilling over Arthur’s hair and eyes, lighting them up in a way that captured Eames’s gaze. Seeing Arthur so comfortable in his – _their_ home filled Eames with a feeling of content satisfaction. “What smile is that?”

 

Eames blinked in confusion, suddenly being pulled from his thoughts by Arthur’s words, “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

 

He saw Arthur blush slightly and continue, “I’ve seen you give me a lot of different smiles over the years, all unique depending on what you’re feeling at that moment.” He paused, clearly a little nervous about how Eames would take this, “I haven’t seen this one before.”

 

Eames hummed as that sense of happiness and belonging grew inside him like a tiny sun, his smile growing, “Contentment, love.” He paused, watching a similar smile tilt Arthur’s lips upward, “This is a smile of contentment.”

 

**XII – The Thoughtful Smile**

 

When Arthur suggested he start sleeping on the couch Eames felt his stomach drop. He had to vigorously remind himself that he and Arthur were not dating, they were not lovers, and it was bizarre that they shared a bed in the first place. Still, that didn’t make him any keener on the idea, even if Arthur’s reasoning made sense. Eames eventually relented, partially because it would be good to know if they were truly over the nightmares, and partially just because he didn’t want to make things awkward between them by arguing the point.

 

So that first night Eames slipped under the covers by himself, suddenly realizing how large his bed was. He managed to sleep without any nightmares but when he woke up the next morning he felt cold, not having enough body heat to warm up the entire bed to his liking. He had asked Arthur to return to the bed but the other man had refused, saying he wanted to test this for a week. Without any other choice, Eames nodded. Stupid Arthur and his stupid research.

 

When a week had passed and they had not experienced any nightmares Eames was relieved. It was good to know that they had managed to pull through the odd backlash from the inception job together. It was even more relieving to know that Arthur would be returning to sharing a bed with him that night. Or at least, that’s what he assumed. “I think it’s safe to say that we can manage to sleep on our own and not have to deal with nightmares or blurred reality now.”

 

Arthur’s words caused a sudden jolt of panic to pass through Eames’s body, his heart beating fast with fear and adrenaline. “Does that mean you’re going to stay on the couch? Are you moving out?”

 

“What? No!” Arthur looked at him across the table in confusion, “Why would I continue sleeping on that musty old couch when I can sleep in a perfectly warm bed?”

 

Eames’s fear slipped away just as fast as it had arrived and he smiled slightly, drifting off into thought. He had never really thought about what would happen when he and Arthur dealt with the backlash, though he should have since that was why Arthur had come to stay with him in the first place. He was surprised and a little puzzled over how terrified he had become at the thought of Arthur leaving. As his thought process continued he slowly realized that even though he was content with the way things were, he also wanted more. He wanted to share more, experience more, _be more_ with Arthur.

 

After those thoughts had been realized once, they would not leave the forger alone. Small, simple things would leave Eames with a thoughtful smile, feeling what he felt for Arthur grow into something even more than he ever thought possible. When Arthur would slip under the covers and curl up against him without hesitation. The one time the point man made them spaghetti for dinner just because Eames had mentioned offhandedly that he felt like pasta. Those small smiles Arthur would sometimes give him, his eyes immediately seeking Eames out when he returned to the flat.

 

It was a few weeks after that when Eames returned to the flat one afternoon carrying a few bags stuffed with groceries to find Arthur standing on the balcony talking on his cell phone. He had almost forgotten that the point man had brought it with him since Arthur had turned it off when he arrived. He assumed Arthur had finally made the choice to turn it on today, having seen Arthur staring at it as Eames left to go buy groceries. He set the groceries down and lazily took his seat on the balcony just in time to see Arthur nod, “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk with you soon, Dom.”

 

Eames felt his eyebrow rise curiously, “That was Cobb?” he saw Arthur nod as he took his own seat, “What was he calling about?” Arthur went on to explain that the team had all experienced but beaten the backlash from inception and then told Eames about Cobb’s job offer. It sounded interesting, an entirely new angle on their old profession, but Eames wanted to know Arthur’s thoughts first before he spoke, “What do you think, pet?”

 

“I think that no matter how rich we are, we can’t spend the rest of our lives in this flat,” Arthur looked at him seriously. “We’ve beaten the backlash and need to face dream work again, or at least I do. And I think sooner or later we’ll miss the creativity, the freedom and the excitement. This is our chance to rejoin that with our old team-mates.”

 

Eames couldn’t help but smile as he thought, staring at the table. Arthur was right; they needed to face dream work again. They would miss everything that came with the profession and it would make sense for the entire team to return together. As happy as Eames was, staying here in this flat with Arthur, he was ready for them to move on – to venture into the unknown together. And Arthur’s bravery over facing dream work again made Eames’s own bravery grow. Maybe, as they ventured forward, Eames would have the courage to pull Arthur out of their comfort zone and show how he truly felt for Arthur.

 

A wave of determination passed through him as he looked up and smiled at Arthur. “I think you’re right, love, and if you’re going back into the field you better believe I’ll be chasing your heels.” _Forever_.

 

**XIII – The Affectionate Smile**

 

Eames was already out in the hallway with their luggage but he saw Arthur pause in the doorway, looking back into the brightly lit flat. Eames came up behind him slowly as he heard Arthur whisper, almost to himself, “I can’t believe I’m saying this...but I’m going to miss this place.”

 

Warmth flooded Eames as he too glanced around the flat...their home. He turned to Arthur then, deciding that this was their first step into the unknown and there would be no better time to begin showing Arthur his affection. He cupped Arthur’s face with one hand, grazing his thumb along that strong cheekbone, smiling with all the affection he felt for the point man. “Don’t worry, love. It’ll be here waiting until you come back.”

 

He allowed Arthur to pull away shyly as they finally closed the door and headed down to grab their cab. He knew that despite how long they had known each other and how much they had already come to share, it would still be a slow process. Hell, Eames had to accept the fact that they may never move beyond this point as they took their seats side by side in first class to Los Angeles. But as he watched the point man shuffle in his seat, placing his bag in the _exact_ right position and clip together his seatbelt precisely, Eames smiled. This man was worth the effort, quirks and all.

 

A couple days later they met Cobb and Ariadne on the floor of the office building that was dedicated to dream therapy, with the actually therapy centre on the floor above them. Ariadne came over and hugged both of them somewhat desperately before everyone else shook hands in greeting. Eames wondered briefly how Ariadne managed through the backlash but was glad to see she was doing well.

 

Cobb began explaining the jobs as he showed them around the floor. He told them that they would be helping patients in different ways using dreams depending on what they needed; dealing with regressed memories, problems hidden deep down where they destroy you slowly, finding identities of criminals that the individual witnessed. As Ariadne began asking more questions Eames leaned closer to Arthur, “This sounds bloody boring, pet.”

 

“You should be well aware of how dangerous _anyone’s_ subconscious can get, legal job or not. Or...” Arthur paused, using a very similar smirk of challenge Eames recognized from his own lips, “are you afraid you can’t cut it?”

 

Eames leaned back against his chair with a huff, feeling the desire for a challenge bloom inside him at Arthur’s words. He couldn’t explain why he felt such a strong wave of affection for this man simply because he had taken his smile and turned it against him. But he allowed Arthur to see his smile when the point man turned back to glance at him briefly returning his attention to Cobb to receive the first patient’s information.

 

Eames watched Arthur skim the legal patient information in the span of ten minutes before excusing himself to his own unique methods of gathering information. Eames watched him go before returning his attention to the other two dream workers in the room. They discussed the upcoming job for a while and then fell onto more personal topics.

 

Cobb told them about how his children, James and Phillipa were doing and how they helped him through the backlash after inception. Ariadne told them about how she had nearly lost herself to her nightmares when she returned to Paris so she returned home to spend time with her family. Eames sat there quietly, listening, until suddenly two sets of curious eyes turned on him. “So you and Arthur were living together in Barcelona,” Cobb stated, clearly trying to find some boundary between his curiosity and giving them some privacy.

 

“That’s right,” Eames tried to shrug the words off casually. “Arthur showed up about a week after inception when the nightmares were getting bad...for both of us.”

 

“Are you guys...?” Ariadne trailed off hopefully.

 

“No.”

 

“But I thought you...?”

 

“I do.”

 

“So he doesn’t...?”

 

“Bloody hell, I don’t know!” he blurted out suddenly, startling Ariadne so badly she jumped. He noticed Cobb watching him silently, trying to read something in his face. “I’m working on it,” he eventually muttered tiredly. He was frustrated that all of his fears were suddenly swirling around his head again. Worried that if he showed Arthur how he truly felt the man would not just reject the step forward...he would reject Eames entirely and leave him with nothing but memories.

 

“He’s worth the risk...” he heard Cobb state quietly, a tone of brotherly affection and concern in his words, “As long as you don’t hurt him.”

 

“I know,” Eames nodded, “I won’t.”

 

He left the office building with that thought in mind, heading back to the hotel room they would be staying in while they tested out this new type of dream work. He didn’t know when Arthur would return so he ordered some food for himself and spent the evening lost in thought. Long after the sun had set Eames changed for bed and slipped under the covers, grabbing one of his favourite books to keep himself awake until Arthur returned.

 

It took another hour or so and Eames realized that he would probably have to go out and get some more reading material soon if he was planning on staying up until Arthur came home every night. But finally he heard the key in the door and saw the point man walk into the room to drop all of his new information on the room’s desk. “I was considering sending out a search party,” Eames smiled at his book while he read.

 

In the corner of his vision he saw Arthur get ready for bed and then crawl under the sheets beside him, lying on his back with a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess I fell back into my role as Point Man a little too easily,” Eames watched Arthur’s eyes slowly drift shut.

 

Eames watched the other man affectionately for a moment, book forgotten in his lap. It was good to see Arthur back to what he loved to do, what he was comfortable doing. Even though Eames could tell Arthur had enjoyed their time in Barcelona, he had always known that someday the point man would want to return to dream work. They both wanted to, eventually. It was what they loved, what they were best at, and a huge part of what made them who they were. And as Eames watched Arthur’s face relax, he knew it was a big part of why he had fallen for this man.

 

Before he was aware that he had moved he shifted on the bed and dipped his lips down to brush against Arthur’s. He tried to make it chaste so he wouldn’t scare Arthur away, but pulling away from those soft lips and returning to his book like it was no big deal was one of the hardest things he had ever done. When he saw Arthur blink up at him from the pillows but otherwise remain relaxed he felt his affection replace his worry, bringing back that tiny smile he saved just for Arthur.

 

He set his bookmark before placing his book on the end table, clicking the light off. He slid down under the covers carefully, aware that Arthur had already drifted off. But Arthur must have still been somewhat conscious because Eames felt one arm slip around him slowly before Arthur was breathing deeply. Eames felt a renewed sense of hope as he closed his eyes.

 

**XIV – The Naughty Smile**

 

They had all gone out as a team after their first successful job in this new branch of dream work. Cobb had had one drink and then left for home and his children, which everyone teased him about lightly even though he knew how happy they all were for him. Shortly after that Ariadne had been whisked away by a guy who seemed nice despite his inability to contain his hair.

 

That left him alone on a couch with Arthur as they sipped celebratory drink number question mark. Not that he minded as both of their inhibitions slowly fell away to the effects of the alcohol. “Do you think we should get Ariadne home?” Eames heard Arthur ask him, sounding somewhat worried for the architect.

 

Eames laughed lightly at the man’s protective nature. “Let the girl live a little, darling.” He tipped the rest of his drink back, enjoying the dull burn as it traveled to his stomach, “Besides, she’s far from drunk and she’s an intelligent woman. She can make her own choices.”

 

That seemed to assure the man and he felt Arthur’s heat as the man shifted closer to him, leg brushing his own as he tasted his drink. Eventually Eames decided that he was done making small moves. With alcohol backing his courage he leaned over, skimming his lips along Arthur’s bare neck. He felt the other man shiver under his breath and touch, “What are you doing?”

 

Eames hummed and kissed Arthur on the neck one more time before pulling back with a wink, “The better question, pet, is what do you want me to do?” He felt a smile almost unfamiliar to him consume and control his lips. It was like his flirtatious smile but darker, hinting at the desire and affection he felt for Arthur, as well as the pleasure he wanted to promise the other man.

 

He watched Arthur’s cheeks flush deliciously as he stood up from the couch slowly. Eames followed him hurriedly and they supported one another as they left the club to find a taxi. Once they were both in the back seat of the taxi Eames could barely contain himself. He forced himself to stay on the opposite side of the car as he knew Arthur would not appreciate public displays of affection. But he still felt the urge to touch Arthur in any way he could and slowly traced his fingers along Arthur’s thigh.

 

Eames paid the driver and pulled Arthur out of the car without waiting for his change, leading the other man up to their hotel room quickly. Once the door closed behind them Eames pushed Arthur down onto the soft mattress, climbing on top of him and straddling his trembling legs. He dipped his head down to capture Arthur’s lips, already half open to try to catch his breath. Though he had imagined this more times than he could count he could not describe how wonderful it felt to have Arthur pinned below him on the bed. Body trembling and hot with desire, heat soaking into Eames where their bodies touched. Feeling Arthur’s need insistently press against him through their clothes.

 

As he continued to kiss Arthur’s breath away he felt the other man pull his shirt away and run frantic fingers over his chest and stomach. Eames felt himself shiver longingly as those capable fingers explored his skin and he pulled his mouth away to latch onto Arthur’s neck. He marked Arthur under one ear with delicate bites and kisses, groaning as he felt Arthur thrust up into him in response. He disposed of Arthur’s shirt and moved to work on his belt while a small whine escaped Arthur’s lips. But before he could get the zipper down he felt Arthur grip his wrist tightly, stopping his movements, “Wait...wait.”

 

“What is it?” he looked down at the other man, his worry only marginally trumping his impatience.

 

“If we’re going to cross this bridge,” he saw Arthur swallow hard, “We’re not going to cross it drunk.”

 

Eames groaned as he pulled away, realizing with a horrifying certainty that he had nearly made another huge mistake. He had waited years for Arthur, and not just to share a drunken night together. No, Eames had waited years so that he could share everything with Arthur and he had nearly screwed it up by letting his desire take advantage of Arthur’s inebriation. He planted a soft and sad kiss on Arthur’s lips before pulling away, hoping Arthur would forgive him when this was over. “Then you’ll have to excuse me, pet,” he muttered as he walked off to the bathroom, pants painfully tight.

 

Once the door closed behind him and the shower turned on he tore his pants away, frustrated at his own inability to just _wait_. He stepped into the hot spray and dropped his hand to grip himself harshly. It was quick and disappointing as he imagined everything he had wanted to do to Arthur tonight, remembering the feel of the other man thrusting up against him and those small noises Arthur tried to contain. But as he came, Arthur’s name washed away in the sound of the spray, Eames leaned his forehead against the cool tile and reminded himself that with just a little more patience he might just have everything he ever wanted.

 

He turned the shower off and dried himself unenthusiastically, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers from the shelf they had made their unofficial laundry rack. Then he flicked off the light and wandered over to the bed, slipping under the covers cautiously. When he pressed himself against Arthur’s back he could feel the tension in those shoulders and muscles. He wrapped one arm around Arthur’s waist tiredly and sought the place under Arthur’s ear he had marked, kissing it tenderly. He gave a content sigh, his breath brushing over Arthur’s bare neck and back when he felt the man relax in his hold. Arthur had forgiven him.

 

After that Eames knew that some part of Arthur wanted to take that new step with the forger. He refused to push him into making a decision this time though, so he patiently waited for Arthur to make his choice. Of course, that didn’t stop Eames from flashing Arthur this newly discovered smile whenever no one else was looking. Eames loved watching Arthur’s eyes darken and face flush slightly in reaction to the smile.

 

It was a few days later when he finished showering and found Arthur in the hotel room when he left the bathroom, dumping his bag on the desk. Eames only had a moment to flash Arthur that smile before Arthur was suddenly upon him, pushing him up against the closet door and catching his lips desperately.

 

Eames moaned happily, twining his fingers in Arthur’s hair to pull his lips closer and wrapping his other hand around the man’s narrow hips. He spread his legs to accommodate the point man, using his hand to pull Arthur’s body flush against his as he returned the kiss eagerly. He was startled as Arthur spun them around and began stepping him towards the mattress. When his legs hit the edge of the bed he toppled backwards, having been too caught up in the kiss to pay attention to the distance.

 

He let out a quiet moan as he felt Arthur follow him down, grinding down into him as Arthur leaned over his body and nipped his neck, marking him in return. “Arthur dear, I really must protest,” Eames tried to laugh but he was too out of breath, “...You are not nearly naked enough.” He heard a breathless laugh pulled from Arthur’s lips before the point man reached for his tie. Eames caught it first though and dragged Arthur’s mouth down to meet his own in a hungry kiss. He grinned wickedly when he released Arthur and began undoing the tie carefully, “Handy trick, I’ll remember that for later.”

 

He saw Arthur roll his eyes as he began working on his shirt. Once the tie and shirt were resting on the carpet Arthur sat back to work on his belt. Eames grunted and thrust up against Arthur at feeling that hot ass push down against him. He blinked his eyes open when he heard Arthur laugh and could not help a groan of frustration as the other man removed his glorious weight to abandon his pants and boxers. “Fucking...tease...”

 

“Didn’t you always tell me that patience was a virtue?” he briefly noticed Arthur’s smirk before he was distracted by the other man removing Eames’s towel and duck his head down. As his cock disappeared into that moist heat that was Arthur’s mouth Eames felt his eyes rolling back as his head hit the pillow. He felt a hesitation in Arthur’s movements and vocalized his pleasure to reassure him that he was doing _everything_ right, placing a lightly leading hand on the back of his head. Eames quickly lost himself to that sinful mouth and tongue until suddenly he pulled away and switched their positions. “What the hell?” Arthur blinked up at him in confusion.

 

“Sorry love, but you’re going to have to wait your turn,” Eames fought to catch his breath, realizing how close he had been to finishing far too soon. “I’ve been waiting to do this to you for years,” Eames admitted with a dangerous smile as he reached for the lube in his bedside. He heard Arthur hiss in pain as he slipped his first finger in carefully. As he slipped a second finger in, continuing to prepare Arthur, he noticed that the other man was holding his breath, “Remember to breathe, pet.”

 

He watched Arthur gasp, not having noticed he was holding his breath. Once Eames thought Arthur was ready he covered his cock and slowly replaced his fingers, pushing in slowly and remaining motionless. He heard a deep moan crawl up the point man’s throat between pants as he adjusted. Finally, Arthur raised his hips to pull Eames in further, “Move goddammit.”

 

“Now who’s being impatient?” Eames kissed the side of Arthur’s parted lips as he began to move. Even though he knew neither of them would last long, already hard and desperate, he began with a slow pace. He tried to thrust as deep into Arthur as he could manage, loving the feel of Arthur’s body clenching him tightly. Both of them were breathing each other’s air heavily as Arthur began lifting his hips to meet each of Eames’s thrusts, pulling him in deeper to hit that spot that pulled the most beautiful moans from the point man’s lips.

 

He noticed Arthur reaching for his length frantically but Eames pushed the hand away, creating a fist with his own hand for Arthur to use. He saw Arthur clutch the bed covers in his hands tightly, head thrown back without embarrassment. Without any type of mask hiding what he was feeling and it was beautiful. Arthur began whispering things into the air between their moving forms; things that Eames never thought he’d hear spill from those precise lips but quickly couldn’t get enough of. That paired with feeling Arthur thrust up into his hand without pattern while pulling Eames into him with each buck of his hips caused the forger to lose his pattern, quickening his pace as he thrust into Arthur harder.

 

“Eames, I—God, I’m--” Arthur’s desperate words caused a spike of pleasure to jolt through him and he leaned forward to catch Arthur’s lips. The kiss was messy as Eames swallowed Arthur’s cry when he came against their stomachs. As Arthur reached his end his nails bit into Eames’s back as he held him close, panting as their lips brushed. Feeling Arthur’s heat spasm around him through his orgasm, it only took Eames a few more frantic thrusts before he buried himself deep inside Arthur and gasped his name. He continued rocking his hips shallowly as he spilled himself inside the other man who shuddered and moaned beautifully underneath him.

 

Once he was entirely spent Eames collapse half on Arthur, both of them trying to calm their breathing. “We should...probably get cleaned up,” he heard Arthur pant against his cheek.

 

Eames nipped Arthur’s ear playfully before pulling away slightly, smiling down at Arthur, “Want to share the shower?”

 

He heard Arthur groan reluctantly, “Stop using that smile on me; you got what you wanted.”

 

Eames pulled away quickly to see Arthur’s entire face, shocked at what he had heard from the normally-intelligent point man. “You think I only wanted a one time shag?”

 

Arthur blinked up at him, looking nervous and unsure, “Did you?”

 

“Darling,” Eames breathed, smiling in disbelief, “I want to do this to you for the rest of your bloody life.” It felt good to finally say this to Arthur, even though he hadn’t told the man everything he felt yet. It felt even better when a content smile curled Arthur’s lips up in return. “Now seriously, shower.”

 

He saw Arthur roll his eyes, “Give us time to recover.”

 

Eames leaned closer with a deadly smirk, “Aww, did I tire poor Arthur out?”

 

He saw Arthur’s eyes flash with challenge as the point man sat up on the bed, returning that dangerous smirk, “Oh we’ll see who’s tired when I’m done.”

 

“Good,” Eames felt himself grin, holding Arthur’s chin as he caught those smiling lips for a quick kiss. Then, having wanted another excuse to do this since Arthur had first shown up in Barcelona, Eames scooped the point man up in his arms and began walking to the bathroom. “Because we have years to make up for,” he smirked down at the flushed man in his arms as he kicked the door closed behind them.

 

**XV – The Loving Smile**

 

Arthur had gone to Ariadne’s new town house to chat and to help her move some furniture around – a relatively normal afternoon. However, when he returned Eames could tell that something was on his mind. He began noticing that Arthur had picked up a habit of watching him carefully even though he could not think of any explanation why. It was a little confusing, having Arthur observe him like a puzzle that wasn’t making sense, but it was also rather amusing to watch at the same time. Therefore, with a small smile Eames remained silent and allowed it to continue.

 

He assumed that sooner or later Arthur would bring it up and on the Saturday morning after his visit with Ariadne, Arthur proved him right. Eames had already been up for about half an hour, reading his book in bed lazily until he worked up the determination to find food. He noticed Arthur slowly wake up, stretching languidly under the covers before falling still. “You know,” he heard the point man begin thoughtfully, “Ariadne said something funny the other day when I was visiting her new townhouse.” Eames gave a small hum to encourage Arthur to continue, not wanting to interrupt him. “She said that we act like a married couple and that she was surprised we hadn’t gotten our own place yet.”

 

Eames looked down at Arthur quickly with a smile, trying to read the other man’s reaction to these words, “She might be onto something.”

 

“What do you mean?” he heard the note of nervousness in Arthur’s tone, Eames’s own nervousness lodging in his throat.

 

“Well...” Eames began hesitantly as he set his book aside, “If we’re planning on staying here for a while to do more dream therapy it might be a smart idea to get our own place.” He looked down at the point man to make sure he wasn’t ready to bolt before he continued, “I know we’re both rich enough to live in a five star hotel for the rest of our lives but I miss having a place we can call our own.” Eames tried to explain what he wanted without freaking Arthur out, skimming his eyes around the hotel room and suddenly missing their home in Barcelona.

 

Arthur was still on the bed beside him for a moment before he was suddenly pulling himself out of bed, reaching for his nearby clothes. “There’s something I have to do,” Eames heard him speak hurriedly as he found a clean shirt.

 

“Getting our own place was just a thought you know...we don’t have to,” Eames spoke past the painful twisting in his stomach, watching the other man dress quickly.

 

“I know,” Arthur did not even look over at him.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, hopeful that he was reading this situation wrong.

 

“No, this is something I have to do on my own,” Arthur came over and kissed Eames lightly on the cheek before bolting out of the hotel room, the door slamming shut behind him.

 

Eames sat against the headboard, not having moved during the entire whirlwind of an incident. The hotel room suddenly seemed empty, the silence too heavy for him to bear. He glanced at the other half of the bed, covers thrown aside in haste. Eames swallowed past the painful lump in his throat, dropping his forehead onto his propped up knees, “Shit.”

 

He replayed that short conversation in his head, watching in dread as each time Eames suggested they get a place to call their own Arthur bolted. He had royally fucked up. Why couldn’t he just stop being selfish and be happy with what he had? He and Arthur had already come so far together and Arthur had shared so much of himself with the forger. Who was he to push and ask for more?

 

The rest of the day passed in a pointless blur. He reasoned with himself, somewhere deep down, that Arthur would have to come back at some point for his stuff. But that did not stop him from feeling flushed and sick. It felt just like that day so long ago when Arthur had kissed Eames when he had been disguised as Ariadne. His heart was shattering and he had no one to blame but himself.

 

Eventually he found himself on his laptop, skimming through random webpages dully for anything to distract his mind. He was in the process of repeatedly telling himself that Arthur would not be returning because he was rich and could buy two more of everything he owned. He didn’t want to get his hopes up but just then he heard a key in the door and he felt his heart jump into his throat.

 

He looked up just in time to see Arthur rush in, feeling relieved to see the point man again but also confused about whether he should be allowing this hope to twine around his heart. He saw Arthur cross the room to his side slowly, looking guilty as he stopped beside the desk. The point man took a deep breath before meeting Eames’s searching gaze. “I sold my apartment. As soon as we find a new place I’ll give the storage company the address and they’ll ship my belongings.”

 

Eames blinked and stood slowly, Arthur’s words slowly sinking in. Arthur had sold his apartment to find a place with Eames – to _commit_ to living with Eames. He wanted to find a home with Eames so that they could call it their own. This was not a temporary plan, with Arthur’s apartment prepared and waiting for him whenever he decided he was finished with this idea.

 

As comprehension came to him and he slowly allowed himself to believe what was happening a smile overtook his face. Eames felt everything he felt for Arthur bubble up at once, all begging for a place in that smile to display to Arthur how the forger felt about him.

 

Trust, devotion, joy...Eames wrapped one arm around Arthur’s waist to pull him close while he cupped Arthur’s cheek with his free hand.

 

Contentment, pride, affection...Eames saw a warm smile draw Arthur’s lips upward, mirroring his own. That smile erased every worry from Eames’s mind and made him know that everything would be alright, that they could make it through anything as long as they were together. And it assured him that they _would_ be together, that Arthur didn’t want to be anywhere more than in Eames’s arms.

 

Eames closed the distance between them and slanted his lips against Arthur’s happily. Their kiss was slow and breathtaking as their lips moved perfectly against one another – balanced and harmonized. He felt Arthur wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, their lips still curved into that smile as they kissed, expressing everything.

 

Expressing love.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out [here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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